Beautiful
by Pirate-Crisis
Summary: The correct answer to one of Yuuko's strange questions may just save Watanuki's life. [General. One shot.]


"Do you think I'm beautiful, Watanuki?"

The question came from out of the blue and left Watanuki more than a little confused. "Wh-what did you say, Yuuko-san?" He couldn't see a way out of answering it other than that for now, hoping she would change the subject as she often did. They were in the kitchen area of Yuuko's shop; Watanuki was cooking dinner and Yuuko, Maru and Moro were being general hindrances. Just seconds ago, they had all been loudly cheering about some ancient wine Yuuko had found in a cabinet, and now the random, strange question.

"How would you answer that?"

"W-well," He put a lot of concentration into flipping the stir-fry in the wok, his face redder than the still-raw beef. "Sure."

"Good."

And that was the end of the conversation.

----

"How weird was that?" Watanuki mumbled to no one in particular. Dinner wrapped up quite easily, with Yuuko wishing him well and sending him home with the leftovers and some weird hard candy she had bought recently. "Just like that! And really now, how does any employer act that way to her employee? Seriously!"

He hadn't really noticed it when he left Yuuko's house, but a warm fog had started to roll in. He found it a bit odd, but it wasn't that much of a concern. He knew these streets well enough to find his way even if all the lights in the city went out on him. The fog was only thick for a short while, and it seemed to be passing when he saw a woman standing on a street corner, beneath a flickering streetlight.

She was wearing a surgical mask, as though she had a cold. In her hands, she clutched a thin package wrapped in brown paper. Dressed in neutral colors, Watanuki was struck by just how pretty she was. Long black hair flowed down to her waist, free from any clips or ties. She wasn't pretty in the way Himawari was, she had a classic beauty that Watanuki couldn't really place. Her pale collarbone could be seen from underneath that slightly low-cut top, but she was very modest, dressed tastefully. She didn't look that old, either. She couldn't have been any older than Yuuko; in fact she could have been Yuuko's junior by four or five years.

Watanuki felt rude for staring and shook his head clear of the thoughts. He picked up his pace to walk past her, wondering just how old Yuuko was. The light flickered violently, very suddenly.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

The voice was soft and fractured, as if spoken by someone on the brink of tears; it was somehow very clear through the surgical mask. It pulled Watanuki violently from his thoughts and he turned to face her, forcing an expression of confusion.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" He asked apologetically. "I didn't quite hear you."

"Do you think I'm beautiful?" It was slightly louder this time, but also more firm, still not muffled by the mask. The question demanded an answer. The streetlight fluttered again, dancing like a candle flame in a breath of wind.

"Y-yes," Watanuki finally stammered.

The silence that followed his answer was awkward and a tad nerve-racking. The woman's free hand went slowly to her face; long slender fingers passed her jaw and went behind her ears, pulling the strings of the mask free. Watanuki stared in horror as the mask fell away.

Beneath the bloodied inside of the mask, the woman's mouth was small and painted with red lipstick. From the corners of her lips, however, the smile extended— bloody gashes extended up to her ears, rotten red and raw. When her lips turned upwards in a smile, all of the teeth could be seen through the cheek. They were all perfect and white, save for the crimson blood that tainted them. The light was now off more often than it was on, giving the effect of a strobe light, making everything very surreal.

"Do you still think I'm beautiful?" She whispered, unwrapping the parcel she held in her arms. The fog reflected off of what the brown paper concealed—it was a butcher's knife. The dying streetlight reflected horribly across the knife as the woman raised it gently. She held it aloft as though she were offering him a flower. "Even like this?" A hush went over the world as the words echoed in the alleyway. Watanuki felt his hands trembling and his legs felt weak. He wanted to run, but didn't know where he could possibly go.

_Do you think I'm beautiful, Watanuki? _Yuuko's voice echoed in his mind. _How would you answer that?_

_How would you—_Watanuki looked up, past the Glasgow smile to the woman's eyes. They were a beautiful gray color, horrified and sad all at once. Watanuki steadied himself and his voice.

"Yes," He replied with a sad smile, "Yes, you're very beautiful."

"Thank you," The woman whispered, and the cleaver dropped to the ground, making no sound when it connected. "Thank you, you are too kind."

The wind picked up, only slightly. The woman and the fog were soon gone.

----

"Kuchisake-onna is what we call her now." Yuuko explained the next day as Watanuki was putting on an apron over his clothes. It was a Sunday, and Yuuko needed him to clean out some old closets in the back of the shop. "Her name was lost many, many years ago."

"What happened to her?" Watanuki asked as he tied a bandana around his head to keep his hair out of his face. "She sounded so sad at first…"

"The legend goes that there was a samurai lord that was quite powerful in his land, but quite violent as well. He had a beautiful wife—a real prize—who loved him very, very much. She was a little vain, of course, but who isn't from time to time?" She got to her feet and led Watanuki down a back hallway to the closets that needed sorting out. "But, naturally, she was so beautiful that he soon became suspicious. 'How can she love only me?' 'I'm not even that good-looking,' 'She's too good for me…' That sort of thing. He began to think that maybe there was someone else that she loved, that she wasn't loyal to him."

Watanuki clutched the feather duster close as Yuuko reached the closet doors and opened them. Stacked upon the shelves was years and years of junk, more of the artifacts and knick-knacks that Yuuko often collected.

"In a drunken rage one night, he confronts her. She falters under his demands, shocked that he would even consider that she loved anyone else." Yuuko reached to the very top shelf, and pulled down a sword that has been perched on a black, lacquered base. She fingered its hilt; its wrapped grip was beginning to fray. "He took his sword, and slit her face from ear to ear crying, 'Who will think you're beautiful now?!'" Watanuki closed his eyes, and he could picture the scene—the bloodied blade, the woman lying on the ground, sobbing.

"It's said," Yuuko continued, "that she died that night. Others say she killed herself because of her disfigured face. Still others say that she died because she loved the man too much. All of the stories remain the same at the ending, though: she came back as a vengeful spirit, and took the man's life, slitting his face the way he slit hers. She still wanders this earth, doing unto others what was done unto her, if they answer her question incorrectly. If you are afraid of her, or if you say no, she chases you down to your doorstep and kills you. There are diversions, but I've never believed they worked…"

Watanuki opened his eyes and looked to Yuuko, whose back was turned to him. _So she knew. She knew I would meet her last night… _

"Enough story time!" The witch announced with a great flourish. "Get to work!"

As much as he grumbled, he did as he was told, slowly and carefully pulling things off the shelves, and calling for Maru and Moro to help him out.

Yuuko retired to the garden momentarily with the sword, ignoring the chaos inside. She pulled it from its sheath, and watched as the light caught the clean parts of the blade. It was in perfect condition, except for the dark stains of blood from an innocent woman's face hundreds of years ago.

"Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned, nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned."

She sheathed the blade and returned inside.


End file.
